Everything’s on Fire

Look at me doing better on the blog front. It’s funny how life decides to rearrange itself when you least expect it. One day, you’re laughing with your best friend of over a decade, and the next… you’re staring at a text that feels like an obituary for something that used to be solid, dependable.

Losing someone who has been a constant in your life, not to death, but to distance, growth, or misalignment…… hits different. It’s strange grieving someone who’s still alive. They're still out there, but no longer part of your daily rhythm. You see them at work or the grocery store, and the once close connection just pangs in your chest like arthritis. It's a chapter ending without the luxury of writing it myself. I don't like it when others write for me, but relationships are two way streets, and I don't get to dictate oncoming traffic. Or whether they cross the center line and obliterate me.

There’s no big fight. It's just a slow unraveling. One minute you can't wait to share the good news with them, and then you realize you’re standing in the middle of something that used to feel like home, but now feels more like a remnant of a good dream. It's only when you open up the still silent text thread that you remember they walked away. My heart aches. How could you?

But the universe taketh away and the universe giveth.

Amidst the ache, I’ve found something completely unexpected. Our triad has blossomed. I stumbled into a love that fits like a puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing. We’re heading into 6 months of learning, growing, tripping over each other’s emotions, and somehow landing in laughter every time. It’s been healing in ways I didn’t think love could be. Turns out, “romantic success” can actually coexist with “emotional dumpster-fire”. Who knew? 

And maybe that’s why writing has been flowing again. Like, actually flowing. Not the forced, half-hearted “I should really get back to that draft” kind of writing, but the kind that pours out of you at 2 a.m. when you realize your characters are coping better than you are. (Relatable, honestly.) It’s been so good to fall back into my worlds, even the dark, twisty, dystopian ones.

Writing & Project Updates

Wintermoor – Book 2: Paying the Price:

Still on track! Final edits are in progress, and everything’s shaping up. I can’t wait to share the next installment with you, complete with chaos and emotional turmoil. Cover art is being polished, minor tweaks, but it’s so close to final.

Sounds of the Kitchen – Scratches from the Walls:

I’ve been revisiting this collection, and let me tell you…… the words are biting back, and it’s falling together beautifully. In a good way. The poems are raw, weirdly comforting, raw emotion, a little bite of haunting honesty, and exactly what I need right now. Targeting late 2025, but you know me… timelines are more of a creative suggestion.

Forbidden Number

My beloved dystopian problem child. Every time I revisit it, the real world takes another step into uncanny similarity territory, and I have to go, “Okay, maybe tomorrow.” I haven’t set a launch date, because, well, I don’t want my writing to be the next unfolding prophecy. It MAY be finished by 2027, unless society implodes sooner (in which case, I’ll call it an immersive launch experience).

Life, Love, and Laughing Through the Apocalypse

The world outside? Still burning. Metaphorically and occasionally literally. But somehow, in the middle of it, I’ve found glimmers of love, light, and hope. Maybe that’s the secret,  embracing the mess instead of trying to clean it up. I’m clinging to the little moments. The laughter. The love.

So here’s to the endings we didn’t see coming and the beginnings that surprised us. May the resilience to keep writing, loving, and laughing while everything smolders in the background bless us all.

Stay safe. Find peace. Protect your happy.

PAX,

AMH